


Dominion

by ClementineStarling



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, Not A Happy Ending, Series Finale, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 09:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10533735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineStarling/pseuds/ClementineStarling
Summary: A story is true. A story is untrue. As time extends, it matters less and less.The stories we want to believe those are the ones that survive...





	

Silver has spent weeks, months, years living a story, a tale Flint spun about the nature of existence. His whole life was built on that idea. It's been his faith, his religion, the very fabric of his reality. But not anymore. He can't allow the world to descend further into Flint's nightmares, no matter how convincingly he paints them as dreams of a better future. Freedom and death, he can't see the difference anymore; slowly, unnoticeable they've become the same. Silver understands now that there lies nothing on this path but suffering. Suffering and grief and madness. How many have died, how many more will die for this war they cannot win? How many more will be sacrificed for a lost cause, will be maimed and slain in pointless battles? Silver can't stand for it, not anymore. He has to put a stop to it, he's the only one who can.

“But I will stand here with you for an hour, a day, a year,” he says, “while you find a way to accept this outcome so that we might leave here together. For if not then I must end this another way.”

It's an attempt, a very desperate attempt to try and convince Flint to let it go, to allow him to take over in telling the story but deep down he knows, Flint is stubborn, he won't bow to the narrative Silver proposes. He won't give in, not to a threat, not to reason. There is only one possible outcome and Silver is bracing himself for it. Every moment now.

He can see it in the setting of Flint's jaw and he realises Flint himself gave him the ability to do this; in many ways but most importantly by teaching him to fight. 

Flint lunges forwards, and Silver pulls the trigger.

He does it because he knows Flint will never be persuaded.  
He does it because he remembers what Flint will do to anyone, however close, who stands in his way.  
He does it because it's the only way to end this and it has to be done

He knows all this, has mulled it over and over and over again. But in this moment it feels like an accident, an automatic reaction in self-defence. It is surreal. The ear-splitting sound of the gun, the birds raising from the surrounding trees, scared up by the noise. For one moment there is nothing but their wings flapping, their angry caws. The world moves forward but at the same time it's holding its breath. Just for Silver, who is rooted to the spot. Frozen. He can't believe he's done it, but he sees it in Flint's face, in his stunned expression, sees it in the burst of blood blooming on his chest, darker even than the dark fabric.

Flint staggers and now it is Silver who moves forwards in a futile attempt to catch him before he slumps to the ground.

He left him no choice he thinks, he didn't want this. It's what he keeps repeating, as far as he'll remember later, again and again, face wet with tears, while clutching at Flint, holding him tight, as though somehow, miraculously, he could keep him despite everything that transpired, as though somehow he could bring him back if only he said it often enough. _I didn't want it to end like this._

But it's not yet what is happening. Flint is still with him, lying on the ground but still breathing, still alive, and Silver is kneeling at his side, crouching over him. He doesn't know how he would have pictured this moment, if he had ever imagined it before – perhaps he'd seen them locked in a last embrace, much like he found Flint and Gates, or struggling for a weapon, fighting to strike that one final blow.

He could not have fathomed Flint giving up in the end, see the anger, the defiance, all the rage finally pouring out of him. His blood, red, vibrant, is everywhere. Soaking his shirt, soaking the ground. Irrationally Silver is pressing his own hands to the wound to staunch the bleeding, but he can't stop Flint's life running out of him, seems even unable to slow it down. Every breath Flint draws is laboured already, ragged.

“What will you tell, Madi?” Flint croaks, coughs. There is blood on his lips too. “Will you tell her you killed me?”

Silver's throat is burning. It's difficult to keep his voice steady when he admits the obvious: “I can't. Not without losing her.”

“How then?” Flint says. “How will you convince her that I abandoned the cause? She will never believe it.”

“I will tell her that I unmade you. That I found a way to reach back in time, back to the tragedy from which Captain Flint was born, and that I undid what was done.”

Flint gives a hoarse laugh that again turns into a cough. “How on earth would you be able to do that?” More blood comes bubbling from his mouth and on an impulse Silver leans forward to wipe it away.

“I will tell her that I found Thomas Hamilton and that I brought you to him,” he says, quietly, because he knows it is blasphemy to utter such a lie in the face of reality.

For a split second Silver can see the pain flicker over Flint's features, the memory of a loss too great to bear, a loss of which he now knows how it feels. He was spared the grief and the torment and the darkness, he was reunited with the person he loves, but that's why he would do anything to avoid this pain, anything at all. He wishes dearly he'd be able to grant Flint the same mercy but even united, when there seemed to be nothing in the world that could have stopped them, they never wielded that kind of power. A story can bend truth only so far.

But for others, everyone who's not here right now, everyone who's not Flint or Silver, Ben Gunn or Israel Hands, it will be the truth from now on, and there has to be some comfort in that. It's all the solace Silver can think of.

“I will tell her that you have walked inland,” Silver continues, “to a place where people mistake oars for shovels because they have never been troubled by the sea. And I will tell her that you found some peace there.”

“It's a pretty story,” Flint says. His expression is soft, dreamy, almost forgiving, his gaze is losing its focus. Not long now. Silver can't stop the tears welling up in his eyes.

“I'm so sorry,” he says, blinking furiously to clear his vision. A tear escapes his eye and rolls down his cheek, then another one. He stifles a sob. “I'm so sorry,” he says again.

Flint gives an noncommittal huff. He's so pale now, it's as though he's becoming transparent. He's reaching out, Silver can see how much effort it costs him, he is already so weak, weaker than he's ever seen him and it is breaking his heart. He leans closer, as not to miss whatever Flint wants to tell him. 

Flint's hand is cupping his face and this time the sob breaks free from Silver's chest, violent. His face is wet with tears, wet with Flint's blood.

“I hope you'll find the happiness you seek, John,” Flint says, his thumb rubbing over his cheek as if to wipe away the tears. 

His eyes are ocean green, Silver realises, how could he ever have been so foolish to believe there was a life for Flint without the sea.

It is true what he tells Madi. Flint's resistance began to diminish towards the end of his journey. As his strength faded, so did the persona he created for himself, Flint's sway over the world began to wane and for the first time, in that moment of death, Silver was able to catch a glimpse of the man he once was, James McGraw. Perhaps it's not too foolish to believe he is finally at peace somewhere, united with the ones he loved. It now lies within Silver's power to make it so. We're all just stories in the end.

~


End file.
